


Untitled

by possiblyfictional



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Crack, Other, Purely Self Indulgence, this is barely edited
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-15
Updated: 2016-05-15
Packaged: 2018-06-08 13:44:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6857419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/possiblyfictional/pseuds/possiblyfictional
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>TFW vs. Ikea shelf. We all know who won.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Untitled

“Well, fuck.”

“What do you mean?” Cas asked from the armchair, reading a book about ancient gardening practices or some shit while Dean tried to do _productive_  and _useful_  things like _building a fucking Ikea disaster shelf from hell_.

“I think he broke the shelf,” Sam commented, leaning against the door of the library. “I assume your simple task is not going to plan, Dean?”

Dean rolled his eyes and sighed heavily, turning to face his annoying-as-all-fuck little brother. “Don’t you damn start with me, Sammy, Cas _asked_  for the goddamn shelf, you _agreed_  with him, I’m the only one who _didn’t_  want the damn thing because I _knew_  how building it was going to go, and now here we are, with a shelf that doesn’t fucking work and two dumbasses standing there like they’re any better than me,” he answered, listing the scenarios on his fingers, then throwing his hands in the air.

Cas put the book down, meticulously placing his bookmark between the pages before shutting it. “It can’t be as difficult as you’re making it. You’ve built shelves before.” His attempts at placation were futile, as he was unaware of exactly how terrible Ikea things are.

The older Winchester sighed again, his patience waning. “I have built shelves before. I can do that. But this goddamn bullshit excuse for a shelf is not a fucking shelf.”

“Okay, Dean! Okay! Fuck, man,” Sam interrupted. He surveyed the pile of wood and nails. The asymmetrical shelf Cas had wanted for his plants hardly looked like a piece of furniture, much less a shelf. “If you can’t do it, because you can’t read goddamn instructions, then I’ll do it. And laugh at you afterwards.”

“Fine. Go ahead. Be my goddamn guest,” Dean said, tossing the instruction manual at his little brother. “Call me when it gets done, if ever.”

Sam hesitantly picked up the slip of paper. Before Dean left the room, Sam called out, “Hey, where are the words? It’s just pictures.”

Dean’s laughter echoed through the bunker, leaving a very confused Sam and Cas in the library.

-

“What the fuck?” Cas grumbled, trying to fit two pieces of wood together. “These are the correct pieces, right?”

Sam glanced over, then shrugged. “Maybe. I don’t know anymore.”

Cas groaned, gesturing with one hand for the instructions while holding the two boards in place. The younger Winchester stretched behind him for where they’d tossed the packet in frustration, almost dropping the manual when he came back to an upright position. He shoved the packet in Cas’ direction, angrily wishing he was anywhere but here. The only reason they hadn’t burned the damn thing was because they needed to prove themselves to Dean as some weird show of dominance or some shit.

Cas didn’t give a fuck about the whole brother-dominance bullshit. He just wanted a damn shelf for his small garden. When he was given the manual, he glanced at the pictures, sighed heavily, and let the two pieces drop from his hands, as well as his hopes and dreams.

“This is a disaster,” Sam muttered furiously, throwing a hand out over the destruction. “A fucking disaster.” Cas nodded his agreement bitterly, trying to smite the shelf with his glare alone.

And then Dean walked in. He seemed more relaxed than the last time the two had seen him, holding a beer in his hand and having hours away from the Ikea shelf. An amused smile lit up his face when he saw the two on the floor. They had made no progress since Dean had stormed out of the room, and that made a warm feeling rise in his chest. It was probably morbid satisfaction.

“How’s it goin’?” He asked lightheartedly.

-

The thing burned within an hour. That hour was full of celebration, celebration that humanity had never seen the likes of before.


End file.
